


Rose and Dave's Romantic Comedy Adventure

by WhatAreCatsEven



Category: Homestuck
Genre: But this is tons of fun to write, Eventual Smut?, F/F, High School AU, Honestly this is just me being silly, M/M, Maybe it's fun to read?, Rating May Change, Rose and Dave are the best moirails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-12 21:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4495809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatAreCatsEven/pseuds/WhatAreCatsEven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guest starring Karkat and Kanaya as the blushing brides.<br/>In which Dave has terrible ideas, all of Rose's ideas are even worse, and the three constants of the Strider/Lalonde children are awesome poker faces, being gayer than rainbow unicorns, and a talent for complete and utter self destruction.<br/>Also featuring the talents of Roxy as the evil stepmother, Dirk as the fairy godmother, and Terezi, Vriska, Jade, and John as the terrified bystanders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have not written things in forever, so this may feel a bit clunky, which is why I'm starting off small. Chapters will (hopefully) grow in size as time goes on.  
> Chapters will likely alternate viewpoints.

Your name is DAVE STRIDER and you’ve got this sister.

No, that’s not quite accurate. ‘Sister’ is a term that implies a number of cheerful, happy, family things. Probably a little sibling rivalry, some protective instincts, and mutual affection.

You’re related to Rose Lalonde.

Basically, Rose is the Patron Saint of Resting Bitch Face. She’s roughly five foot nothing of weirdness, sarcasm, and batshit craziness, with hair so blonde it looks dyed and a face like a straight razor, all sharp angles and black lipstick and huge, dark eyes that seem to tear right into in your soul. She’s cute in the same way that goddamn rabbit from Monty Python is, and you can honestly say you’re in awe of her.

You aren’t actually brother and sister - each of you is the product of your parents’ failed relationships, when your Bro was going through his “No I’m not gay” phase that nobody brings up and Ro-Lal had a one night stand with a defective condom as her copilot. It’s sad maybe, to other people, but you’ve never felt that way. Your family is weird and broken in a very unique way, but it works, so who the fuck cares?

Back to the matter at hand.

Dinnertime in the Strider/Lalonde household is a heavily ritualized affair. Bro does not tolerate infidels in his kitchen - the man is a crack shot with a wide variety of kitchen implements. One lazy Sunday afternoon, you actually saw him doing target practice with a ladle. He had a bullseye set up and everything.

So he’s humming and moving around in an amazingly ironic apron - ‘You don’t have to kiss me but you could get me a beer’ - and everyone else is chilling at the table. You’re fidgeting in your seat, which is not, repeat, not cool. But you’re considering some drastic fucking measures. You need help, and you’re staring at the one place you may be able to get it, your crazy sister, with a level of intensity and confusion usually reserved for Roxy’s dramatic readings of wizard fanfiction.

“Oh, I’m not gonna see you guys for so long!” Roxy wails.

“Mother, you only get home around five. We will likely be here before you are.” Rose replies, scribbling furiously in a notepad.

Break ends tomorrow. What the fuck are you going to do?

“But then you’ll have homework!”

“Mine is usually finished on the bus ride. It’s Dave you have to worry about.”

How are you gonna ask her? It isn’t like Rose hates you, but you have an image to maintain. Nobody around here asks for anything. It’s just so... no. Besides. It'll basically give her ammo until the end of time.

“Hey Dave, you gonna still hang out with me when school starts?”

You need some heavy psyching up before this is gonna work. Jesus Christ, you're gonna ask for help. This is basically the end of the world.

"Dave, did you fall asleep behind those ridiculous glasses?" Rose demands, snapping you out of it.

“Yep. Napping like a motherfucker over here. You literally bored me to sleep.”

Roxy laughs a little too loud and Rose scowls and Dirk brings over the steaks.

You'll ask after dinner. At least then you can have some time to plan.

* * *

Somehow, the walk across the house to Rose's room feels unreasonably long.

Deep breaths, Strider.

She... is better at this stuff than you are. In theory, at least.

Fuck, just fucking knock. Hesitation is for the weak.

You raise your hand and rap out a beat on her door.

“Go away.” Rose says through the door, her soft, husky voice indistinct.

So you go in.

“‘Sup, little sis.”

She’s curled up on her bed, some giant murder weapon of a book resting on her lap. Her violet eyes are unamused.

“Dave, I was born literally a month later than you. Is your continued obsession with our age gap a way to cope with your own inadequacies, or did you actually need something?”

“Nice to see you too.” You head for the chair by her desk and land in it with a thump, spinning a few times before turning to face her. “So I need... uh...” Oh look. You've worked your way up to nervous stammering. This is just going great.

“To leave my room?”

“Nope.”

“I am not in the mood for twenty questions, David.”

Oh shit. She dropped the David card. You’d better spit this out fast or she’s gonna throw something.

“So we’re heading back to school tomorrow.”

Rose rolls her eyes. “That is what one does after Christmas break.” But you’ve gotten her interest, now that she knows you’re not just here to bug her. Which is about the only reason she hasn’t hurt you yet.

“And you know I’m taking AP Chem...” You swallow. She notices. You’re pretty sure her eyes are glinting.

If your poker face fails you now...

“And there’s this guy.” You finally manage to choke out. That was possibly the least suave moment of your entire life. The pain. The horror.

Rose’s mouth upturns for an amount of time best measured in milliseconds, and she lazily puts her book down.

“David.” She says. “Is this young man bullying you?”

“Dude. No.”

“Are you...” She pauses, violet eyes dancing. “Perhaps attracted to this young man, in a not entirely heterosexual manner?”

Your face hits your palm hard enough to leave a mark.

“Lalonde, I swear to god-”

“Because I can’t help you until you explain the situation to me-”

“Fine. Yes. Crush. Are you satisfied?”

She closes her eyes for a moment. Huh. You thought she’d tease you longer than that. No, scratch that. She would totally tease you longer than that, which means something’s up. Hell, Rose managed to get a full hour's worth of material in when you forgot the date. This would give her fuel for the next month, easy.

The silence stretches a bit, then-

“Let’s go outside. The walls have ears, brother mine.”

“Uh. What?”

“I saw Roxy planting things all over the house. It’s probably microphones again.”

“Shit, really?”

“My mother, extraordinary woman though she is, has a casual relationship with sanity at the best of times.”

“Alright. Walking sounds good.”

* * *

You both go outside, heading past the halls full of wizard statues. Roxy immediately set them up all over the house when she and Dirk bought it, and as revenge he programmed them to surf the web for incredibly explicit, deviant fanfiction and read it aloud in creaky old-men voices. Needless to say, Roxy was delighted, and wouldn’t let him change them back.

The statues whisper terrifying, terrifying things as you two walk by. The internet is a dark, scary place, and your Bro’s scraping program is downright sadistic when it comes to finding this shit.

None of their friends have ever set foot inside this house for a reason.

You go out the front door into your rich little yuppie neighborhood, walking briskly about three feet apart. It’s cold, about forty degrees, and the wind goes right down to your bones.

Rose sighs, and somehow it seems shockingly loud in the afternoon quiet.

“I had something I’d like to say to you as well.”

You nod, unsure of where this is heading.

“I...” She pauses. “Also like someone.”

Beat of silence.

“Seriously?” You spit out. “You’re trying to mess with me?” Because there’s no way - no way - your sister isn’t fucking with you. She’s Rose Lalonde. She doesn’t like anyone, and she sure as hell wouldn’t need to talk to you about it. You turn to face her, because this deserves some serious harsh language -

Fuck. You fucked up. You misread everything and now you’re going to die, because she has that face that means you’ve got about two seconds to improve her mood or she kills you.

She was serious.

“Sorry.” You say, because it’s the only thing you can think of.

Her face stays icy for another two seconds, then crumples.

“I suppose you can see my problem.” She says, very, very softly.

You shrug, keep walking. After a moment she follows. “I kinda got the same issue.” You tell her. “No big deal.”

The ‘sorry’ hangs in the air.

“Since I’m not in the mood to wait around like we’re in some idiotic sitcom,” Rose says, “You asked me for help first.”

Where to begin?

“His name is... Karkat Vantas. I’m his lab partner.” A beat. “He hates me. Which is kinda why I like him. I think he’s a transfer student or something? I never saw him before this year.”

"Is this the same Karkat Vantas who spends most of his time thinking of new and exciting ways to use the word 'fuckass' in a sentence?"

“How do you know who he is?”

“David, please. When you call the football team a ‘repressed gay cocksucking orgy’ in  crowded cafeteria, word tends to spread.”

“Yeah.”

“It was kind of amusing. In the sort of way that YouTube comments are.”

You’re pretty sure that would be an insult from anyone else, but there’s no fucking telling what Lalonde means by it.

“So. How about your chick.” You ask. All this feelings talk is gonna make you blush.

“Well, actually this is pretty convenient. While you were stalking Mr. Vantas, did you notice his small circle of friends?”

“Crazy blind one, crazy sadistic one, and stone cold but well dressed one?”

“My ‘chick’ is the well dressed one.”

“Whoa. Freaky.”

“She’s not-” Rose starts, and you hold up your hands.

“Slow down, Lalonde. Just meant we like two people who are, y'know, friends.” Wow. She really was about to jump you on that one. You pause. “Plus...”

“Yes?”

"Well, y'know. We can bounce ideas off eachother. Have some brother/sister bonding time. And possibly get laid."

She sighs. "Seriously, Dave?"

"Dude. His butt is extremely cute."

"...I'll take your word for it."

"Like let me tell you -"

"I don't think I will." She says, turning around and heading back for the house. You do a 180 and jog to catch back up.

"So wait, seriously, are we doing this?"

She sighs. "I don't have a better idea."

"We should write a screenplay or something. Because this is basically the best romantic comedy setup ever."

"I changed my mind. Literally any idea is better than this one."

"Awesome. Welcome to the team."

"Shut up, Dave." She massages the bridge of her nose. "There is no way this isn't going straight to hell."

"Yeah, but won't it be fun to watch?"

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much a 50/50 split between Rose and Dave. The next chapter is likely to be a bit more Rose, but I'm going to be doing roughly 50/50 from here on.  
> Please forgive me for the long update delay. College applications are stressful, and life got in the way a little.

Be the cool kid.

* * *

“Daaaaaaavid!” Roxy carols, right by your ear. You jerk upright and only barely manage to preserve your modesty, scrabbling frantically with the sheet.

“Get out of my room, Roxy! God! I’m locking the door next time!” And yep, that sheet is clutched to your chest like this is a bad anime. At least the purity of your glorious pecs has been preserved.

Roxy leers at you for a moment before cackling like a demon and sauntering out, presumably to look for another victim.

That’s one of the many parts of the school year you didn’t miss. Roxy Lalonde should not be anyone’s alarm.

You sigh and get roll out of bed, shambling towards your dresser. Shirt. Socks. Underwear. You slept in your pants, like the sleep deprived teenager you are. And, right, you’re gonna try hitting on Karkat today. And Roxy saw you practically naked.

This is definitely the time for very long, very cold shower.

* * *

Be the weird girl.

* * *

You wake up at seven, without an alarm or a lunatic parent barging in. David claims that makes you a psycho, but you’re pretty sure if that’s the only qualifying factor they’d need to invent a new word for whatever exactly it is that you are.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you swing your legs off the bed and frown at the loose pile of clothes that never really seem to end up in your closet. Well, there’s nothing wrong with black. You grab a few things that might go together, maybe, though who really cares if they don’t, and head for the shower.

Today is probably a black makeup day. You put the stick on top of the clothes you got out, just to make sure you remember.

* * *

Be the cool kid again. All this change is getting exhausting.

* * *

You head out of your shower with blue lips and chattering teeth, and somehow manage to towel off, get dressed, and get outside within about ten minutes. Rose is already there, looking her usual mix of bored, amused, and slightly homicidal, but you’ve noticed the makeup. Black makeup is basically the Lalonde equivalent of war paint, and the fact she’s wearing it is pretty much an admission of outright terror. You can’t say you’re doing that much better. The thought of... well, flirting, relationships, and anything involving personal intimacy in general is horrifying.

The two of you stand in silence until the bus rolls up. You get on and sit in the seat that you’ve spent the past three years sitting in, because change is for other people. Rose settles down beside you.

“Looking forward to this?” You yawn as the bus starts rolling.

“If by ‘this’ you mean giving in to my terrible, self destructive impulses, which will likely result in tragedy and wasted time, then yes.”

“Way too many words for a ‘no,’ Lalonde.”

“Way too few brain cells to understand anything more complicated than monosyllables, Strider?” She says with a smirk and yeah, that’s a little more normal.

“Ah, screw you.” You mutter.

“That’s probably legal in Texas, but fortunately, this isn’t Texas.”

“Oh my god you are terrible.”

“I try.”

“So we’re not going to talk ab-”

“No.” She says, and that’s the end of that. You finish the rest of the trip in silence.

* * *

You’re still the cool kid.

* * *

First period chemistry. Hallelujah. You shoulder your backpack, hop off the bus, and for once actually head straight for class. Getting through the crowded halls is an art, requiring a mix of a bad attitude, a pissed off expression, and actually just shouldering people aside. Needless to say, you’re really good at it. Left... right... straight... you see the double doors of the chem lab and push one open, scanning the room for a familiar head of messy dark hair. 

Fortunately, you see him before he sees you, which gives you about two seconds to admire what a hot piece of ass Karkat Vantas is before he notices you. Indeed, it is a glorious two seconds, because you have a major thing for pretty boys with shaggy emo haircuts. Then his golden brown eyes flick up, and everything promptly goes to shit.

“Oh fuck no. I’d almost forgotten you.” He groans, loud enough for everyone around you to hear. Some of them laugh.

Great start, Strider. Way to play.

“Miss me, Vantas?” You say, slinging your bag down.

“Not a chance in hell, fuckass.”

“Right back atcha, cuddles.”

He bites his lip instead of saying anything else. It’s really extremely adorable, and you kind of want to kiss him in an extremely non-platonic way.

“Attention class!” Mr. Franklin barks, and you look up with a jolt. “Today’s lab is simple. You’re going to burn iron wool and a piece wood and record how each one changes in mass. There are a few questions about what elements might be leaving or what reaction may cause the weight loss -”

“Nothing to it but a good diet and exercise.” You murmur. Karkat snorts.

Okay then. Score one for you.

“-the sheet explains it. Come get me if you have any questions. And don’t set any of your classmates on fire, for the love of god. It happened two years ago, and I’m not looking for a repeat. This is supposed to be a fun back to school lab, not a reason to visit the nurse.”

Kelly Jennings, who has volunteered to be teacher’s pet, starts passing out the labs. You give it a perfunctory glance through while Karkat cranes his head over your shoulder.

“Alright. Seems simple enough.” You mutter, looking through the questions. “Hey, Karkadorable, you’re good at this stuff right?”

“Why the fuck would you call me ‘Karkadorable.’ He sighs. “I don’t... how do you even think of this shit?”

“Pipe down, Karkitty, and grab us some stuff. There’s wool and wood up there.” You pause. “You know, saying wood over and over is starting to get pretty funny.”

“Oh my god. I can’t fucking take this.” Karkat mutters, heading away from the table. Hopefully for supplies and not to hide in the bathroom just to get away from you. It’s about fifty fifty odds at this point.

Jesus Christ, you suck at flirting. Like, this is some kindergarten grade bullshit right here. You’re about two steps away from going, ‘Hey Karkat, I wanna share some deep feelings with you, but instead I’m gonna say you have cooties and gossip about how much you suck to my friends.

Fuck.

He comes back with the stuff and you set up the burner, opting to do the wood first.

Heh. Wood. Still funny.

“Looks like about thirty grams of wood before...” You mutter, scribbling it down. “Alright, Karcutie, set it on fire.”

“Why not just go full on creepy pick up artist and say babe or some shit?” He growls, using a pair of tongs to hold the wood over the bunsen burner. “Maybe tell me how well my fucking diet's working. I mean, it’s not like your dumb ass can go any lower.” As soon as the wood goes up, you quickly stick a plate underneath it to catch everything.

“The pickup artist thing was low." You reply. "Besides, bullshit pet names are way better. I mean, babe just sounds dumb.” A pause. "We can round that to two and a half grams of ash, right?”

“No, dumbfuck, put two point four nine. Of course we can round it.”

“Alright, wool next. We’ve got twenty grams to start.”

Karkat carefully picks it up with the tongs, extending it gingerly towards the fire.

“Dude, just stick it in.” You say impatiently.

“No moron, it says this stuff goes up fast. I don’t wanna get burning fucking metal everywhere.”

“Here, let me -” You say, reaching for the tongs, just as Karkat jerks back to avoid you. The stuff passes right through the fire, escapes the tongs as it goes up, and arcs gracefully right onto the crotch of Karkat’s pants.

Shit.

They go up like a fireworks display at a smoker’s convention.

“Motherfucker!” Karkat screams, batting at his flaming crotch. You grab a beaker, turn the sink on full blast to fill it, and use it to splash his pants. You can hear people yelling around you as the fire goes out with an undignified hiss.

Just to be safe, and because you can, you splash him again. Karkat’s screaming imprecations at you and Mr. Franklin is running over.

“The hell happened!” He demands, gesturing at Karkat’s pants. which are both soaked and have a giant crispy hole right over his dick. He covers it with both hands, and you quickly avert your eyes. “Strider, Vantas, what the fuck are you two doing!”

“Motherfucking bastard son of a bitch got burning fucking wool on me!” Karkat shrieks. People are pointing. And laughing. Mostly at you. Well, mission fucking accomplished. With a graceful motion, you thump your head down on the table.

Lalonde had better be crashing just as hard as you are.

* * *

Be the weird girl. Because seriously, being the cool kid was just starting to get painful.

* * *

There is a god, and whoever they are, they probably hate you.

Kanaya Maryam just sat down next to you, and you have absolutely no idea what you say. You had, of course, planned for this scenario; you’re a high functioning psychopath after all. But those plans didn’t exactly account for Kanaya Maryam just randomly deciding that, perhaps, the gothic girl in the back corner looked lonely, instead of how Rose is fairly certain she actually looks; angry, resentful, and probably sleep deprived.

“Hello.” She says quietly.

“Hello.” You mutter back. Oh god, that was incredibly boring. You had better add something quick. “Rose Lalonde.”

Fuck. Something other than that.

“Kanaya Maryam. It’s nice to meet you.”

“That’s astonishing, because almost everyone who meets me promptly decides that I’m literally the devil.” You say. “I believe I’m somewhat famous for it.” Oh hey, that’s funny. You don’t recall turning your idiot mouth on autopilot.

Against all odds, Kanaya smiles slightly, like she isn’t quite sure if you’re funny or not and is erring on the side of caution. “I have heard something like that, yes.” She pauses. “So far, you aren’t quite living up to your reputation.”

“I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Alright, you little monsters! Listen up.” Mrs. Grunheim growls from the front of the room. Out of the same reflex that makes people pay attention to screams of pain and large, growling dogs, everyone turns to look. “There’s a project. You’re gonna pick a mental disease and do a research paper on it. I don’t really care what you do so long as it’s informative and doesn’t waste my time.”

There is a short pause while the class digests Mrs. Grunheimer’s “Welcome back” speech. Needless to say, you really like Mrs. Grunheim.

“If you can’t figure out my instructions, don’t ask me to explain them.” She finishes. “I’m not going to. Everything is in there.” Then she hobbles over to her chair, sits down, and puts on headphones. Her antique hobnailed boots hit the surface of her desk like a judge’s gavel, signalling the end of the instructional period.

You hurry up to the front, mostly to get away from the gorgeous, tall girl who is inexplicably interested in talking to you, and snatch an instruction packet off the front. It’s over 20 pages long, not counting the two page table of contents labelled “For the morons.” Have you mentioned how much you love Mrs. Grunheim?

And right there, in big capital letters, are the words “You may work with a partner.”

Well. Things just got a little more interesting.

You return to your seat, packet clenched in your white knuckles.

“Miss Maryam, if you wouldn’t mind, I would appreciate a partner for this exercise.” You say, hoping your words don’t betray the churning in your gut and the death grip you have on the back of your chair. This is absolutely, no question about it, going to fail.

Her jade-stained lips curve in a small smile.

“Miss Lalonde, I would not mind at all.”

* * *

Be the cool kid. Or maybe the awkward kid. It’s getting hard to tell at this point.

* * *

Mr. Franklin, in his infinite wisdom, tells you to take Karkat to the nurse.

“I will seriously give you my pants.” You tell him as you walk down the halls. “No strings attached. You don’t even need to put any money in my thong just -”

“Shut the fuck up.” Karkat snarls, a lab coat tied in a makeshift apron over the gaping hole in his pants. “The only thing that could possibly make this day any worse is seeing your pale, spindly legs and fucking teddy bear boxers.”

“Creepy puppets, actually. Fucking teddy bears is too weird, even for me.”

“I have no idea how the hell you even exist.”

“Well, y’see, when a penis and a vagina -”

“Fuck shut fucking up!”

“Right. Sorry.”

You finish the walk in silence, awkwardly maintaining a bit of distance. Karkat looks about ready to kill you, and while you’ve even built up a resistance to Rose’s glare, you would really like to salvage something from this train wreck.

“I really hate you, Strider.” Karkat says when you get to the nurse’s door. “Never forget that.”

“Gotcha.”

“Get to class and finish our damn project. I don't want a shitty grade.” He says with a sigh. “I’m gonna go get probed by the creepy nurse.”

“Yeah. Happy to help.” You mutter, and shamble off. He watches you go for a few seconds, and you only hear him knock when you round the corner and get out of sight. He’s probably making sure you don’t do something else dumb. Jesus Christ. You couldn’t have turned this into a bigger disaster if you tried.

Fuck.

* * *

Weird girl. Because that’s actually less embarrassing by this point.

* * *

“Do you want to meet after school to keep working on this?” Kanaya asks quietly. It’s near the end of the period, and you think you’ve successfully spent an hour and a half looking like a complete idiot. Oh god, you’re being worse than Dave.

“I...” You swallow. Hopefully quietly. “Yes.”

“Let’s meet out by the oak tree. I parked my car nearby.” She reaches for your hand.

“What are you doing?” You ask, jerking your hand back. It’s a reflex, really, because physical contact is terrifying, but on the other hand acting like a lunatic in front of your crush isn’t exactly good either. Fortunately, Kanaya doesn’t seem to mind.

“Writing my number on your hand.” She says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “In case we miss eachother, or there’s a change in plans.”

“Oh. Go ahead then.” You mumble.

She holds the cap in her teeth while she writes, scratching nine digits into the palm of your hand, and wow, you had no idea that part of your body was so sensitive.

Okay. Not going there. Thinking about the erotic potential of handwriting is extremely off limits right now.

“Done.” She says after a second, or an hour. “Are you alright, Rose? You have a strange expression.”

“Fine!” You say, your voice reaching the manic tones usually reserved for the kind of high school drama you try hard to avoid. “Fine, sorry. I’m just very... tired today.”

The bell rings. “I’ll see you after school!” You squeak, and flee the room.

* * *

Continue to be Lalonde. Maybe be marginally less neurotic, though, because this is getting silly.

* * *

Dave is slumped on your usual table, and you immediately know something is wrong. There is a subtle distinction between sleeping Dave and I’m so depressed I’m going to just die now Dave, and you’ve had years of experience differentiating the two. John and Jade are sitting next to him awkwardly, looking back and forth at him and eachother.

“Is he comatose because he forgot to pack a pop-tart for lunch?” You say, sitting down opposite him. It isn't a silly question. That was actually a thing that happened, though granted it was in middle school.

“He’s... been like this.” Jade says hesitantly. “Are you guys fighting again?”

“Leave me alone.” Dave moans. “Let me die in peace.”

“C’mon Dave, whatever it is can’t be so bad.” John says, patting him awkwardly. “I mean, it’s a Monday and Monday’s suck but...”

“This is much more serious than Monday’s, John.” He says. “Just go somewhere else.”

You smack him. “Quit feeling sorry for yourself.”

He looks up, and you’re pretty sure he’s glaring. Though it really is hard to tell behind those ridiculous glasses. “Oh, so your day went better?”

“As a matter of fact, it did.” You flash him your palm, and his head falls back down to thump on the table.

“Oh god. My baby sister...” He sighs. “I’m going to die alone.”

“Um, so if you two aren’t fighting, what’s going on?” Jade asks. “This is weird. And confusing.”

“Dave is just going through some teenage drama.” You tell her.

“Teenage drama?” John asks, and Dave actually probably just sobbed.

“Aww! Dave!” Jade says. “Don’t cry!”

“I’m not crying!”

“You know, it’s rather difficult to try and help you if you’re just going to feel sorry for yourself.” You tell him. “The first step to resolving a problem is to identify it.”

He looks up just long enough to glare again. “I hate you.”

“I know, Dave. I know.” You reply. “Eat something. You’ll feel much better. After all, there’s chemistry tomorrow too.”

It’s almost worth it to see him slam his head into the table again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty! I know this ended a bit in the middle of things, but I felt it was a decent stopping point. Also, writing and editing more would have taken a long time, and it's been far too long since I updated. I apologize for that.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment! I know this is just like a preview, but every writer loves comments more than anything. Or at least I do. Also, if anyone is interested in betaing, I'd really love some help. I had a beta but I don't know if she's still on board?


End file.
